Sometimes it's Just Not Your Day
by medicgirl
Summary: Sometimes even the simplest ops can go badly awry, with painful consequences... Shameless whump (mostly Mac) and torture (more painful for Jack).


Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish, but no.

Author's Note: Ok, so I would apologize for the shameless, pointless Mac hurt/comfort, and for putting Jack through what I did. I would really like to. But I don't lie, and I enjoyed it :) This story was supposed to be completely different, was supposed to be about Jack having a 'talk' with Mac's dad. Somewhere it took a huge left turn, and now doesn't even involve Big Mac! Enjoy, review, and if you hate it, at least I had fun writing it...

Jack heard the whole thing go south over the comms, but was too far away to do anything about it. He knew the kid's cover had been blown about a quarter of a second before what had been a peaceful exchange (for an address for an arms deal! Just an address!) turned into the sickening sounds he recognized way too well: the sound of metal striking bone, and the sound of a human -dead or alive! his brain screamed at him- hitting the pavement.

Of course, Jack and the extraction team were on the move before the second thump, but these guys were prepared. The second he hit the ground, they heard couple more thumps followed by the slam of a van door. Before Jack could even get close enough to get more than the license plate, they peeled out with a scream of abused tires.

For all their preparation, they never even found the comm in MacGyver's ear. Or maybe they did and just didn't care. Or, more menacing, they wanted the team to hear the whole thing. Jack has been captured once, as a Delta, and he and two others were blindfolded while they each took their beating. It had been sickening and terrifying, but had nothing on this. As hard as it was to hear anyone being hurt, even people he only knew by uniform, but this was his boy, his best friend and brother, and every sound of a fist (or worse! He really wished his brain would shut up sometimes…) impacting his friend's body, it tore a hole in his guts. He would take the beating himself if it would spare the kid the pain.

He was driving at speeds that would make a NASCAR driver nervous trying to catch up with them when he heard the muffled groan that mean he was waking up. Part of him was overjoyed at this reassurance that this had not been they day he lost him (Not yet!), but the more practical side knew that unconsciousness hurt a lot less. They had not put a bullet in his head at the warehouse and left him dead on the blacktop, and sound that would have broken Jack in a way that could never be fixed, so they must want him for something. That usually meant one of two things: information, or as a message to whoever was onto them. Information was bad, but they needed the people alive. Making a statement, though… Fighting against the cartels in South America, he had seen what was left of people after that. Or most of them. It was rarely an intact body after the sadistic bastards got finished. The idea of Mac dying was bad enough, but he just couldn't take the idea of him suffering so much that death was a mercy.

"So, starting to wake up, boy?" Sneered a voice that Jack instantly hated. "I was hoping it wouldn't be much longer. We need to know who is on to us."

Jack felt nauseous at the tremble of fear in the young man's voice, even though he knew by the higher pitch in his voice and the rushed quality of the words that he was playing it up. Scared yes. Terrified and panicked? No way that would come out in his voice accidentally. He nodded approvingly at the tactic.

"I don't even know who you guys are!" Mac said in a rush. "I was just at this bar and a guy offered me 500 bucks to meet someone here and get an address! Please, I don't even know who he was, and I won't tell anyone anything about you or him or anything, I swear!"

Another thud, a gasp for breath. "Nice try… the code word you gave us was an old one. We knew from the first call that you weren't who you said you were. But we need to find out who you are and who else is out there before this ends."

The chilling quality of the statement left no doubt how they planned for "this" to end.

Everyone had gone radio silent, coordinating the opp now by text on their satellite phones or secure computers. A text flashed on his console, and it got a quarter of a second glance, but the meaning was clear. Everyone didn't need to hear this, Mac being hurt or Jack's pain either, so it was just him, the kid, and the tech crew scrubbing the audio for clues to a location in case they got away from Jack.

Several more sounds that sounded painful even to hear blasted in Jack's ear, the last one louder than the rest and had a cracking sound to it. Louder, so near the com… His cheekbone maybe? Eye socket? God, Jack hoped they hadn't broken his jaw… the pain is bad, but he couldn't imagine Mac with his jaw wired shut. His head would explode with all that genius stuff if he couldn't share it!

The gallows humor was broken when Mac spoke again, the wet, thick sound of his voice making jack wince. "Look, man, I just did what the guy told me! I don't know anything about a code word or anything." There was a pause where he spit something, probably blood. "I'm not getting paid for this, am I?"

There were the sound of a few more blows, the pained whimper stabbing jack in the gut. His anger flared, clouding his vision with red. That had not been put on, not part of the 'scared, weak college kid' persona he was trying. "Come on, I don't know any- Hey, wait, what-?"

Jack didn't hear a blow, so the cry of pain that turned into a curse he had never heard Mac say before took him by surprise. Jack tasted blood on his own lips before he even realized he was biting it, and his knuckles were white as a ghost as he clenched the steering wheel of the car. He could barely see the van ahead on the highway, and it was pulling away. He pushed the company vehicle as hard as he could and longed to be driving his own muscle car.

"You give yourself away, there. A random person off the street would be screaming bloody murder right about now. You take pain like someone with training. Now who do you work for?"

Realizing he was past that working, he cleared his throat and spit again. "I don't work for anyone. I thought if I could get to the meeting place ahead of time I could steal the weapons."

Jack almost applauded at the steel in his voice. While Mac didn't look particularly intimidating, he had seen the kid become pretty damn terrifying before. But then again, he knew what the kid was capable of. But it was obvious that they didn't buy it as there was more sounds of a struggle, gasps, strikes, auditory chaos. How the hell were they doing all this to him in the back of a fleeing van?!

Jack then heard nothing but ragged breathing. It had to be Mac, right? Because if it wasn't, then he couldn't hear anything from him and that would mean-

"Mac! Mac you're still there, right? Please don't be dead, bro, I'm coming!"

The ragged gasping stopped suddenly, hearing Jack's voice for the first time. "Okay," he said, talking specifically for Jack's benefit, but addressing the thugs. "That the best you got? I can take it!"

Jack winced, thrilled that his boy was alive and alert, but less so that he had basically taunted his captors. "Okay, kid, don't push it, just hang on. I'll get there as soon as I can," he said, the last part more to himself than Mac.

But sometimes, 'as soon as I can' just isn't enough. "Last chance, boy!" The voice said. "Who do you work for? Who is in that blue sedan trying so hard to keep up?" Silence. A loud solid thump, and a sound he could identify (it terrified and nauseated him that he could) as Mac trying his best to keep quite, trying to spare Jack. A fresh stream of blood trickled down from his lip as he bit down, trying to keep himself quiet.

"Are you hard of hearing, now?" The voice demanded, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Answer me before whoever finds you has to gather your teeth for your funeral!" Another bony thud, followed by a a cough and spit, probably Mac spitting up blood. "Who is following us?"

He heard Mac clear his knee Mac would never give up the Phoenix, or Jack, he would die first. But he also knew that frustration in a captor meant bad things for the target. The pause was unbearable, Jack not knowing if the next sound would be Mac speaking or Mac dying. Another punch, another wet sound he prayed wasn't a broken trachea and a death rattle and he hated that he even knew that a trachea could fracture, and when Mac spoke up, it startled him.

"Rambo!" The kid exclaimed. "And you had better hope you're far away and I'm alive when he does, because if I'm not, your death will make mine seem like a dream!"

The man laughed, and honestly, Jack held back a chuckle at the description. He liked to think that the kid was not overconfident in him.

The man's voice still sounded amused. "Seems a little extreme. A boss doesn't usually take a death that personally. Maybe you exaggerate a bit."

The next sound surprised Jack. All the beating and his face sounded busted in, so it took a second to recognize it when Mac laughed. "That's great! You think that's my boss back there? My boss is trying to track us, sure. But that car back there?" Jack could hear the grin in his voice, could almost see it. "That's my big brother, and he is PISSED. And when he finds you… well, the expression 'God help you' will take on a whole new meaning. Because only God could!"

The man hissed in anger. "He's not going to give us anything! Get rid of him!"

Jack saw the van cut over and take the exit at the last possible second. The sounds in his ear were horrible, gut-wrenching, especially when he heard Mac cry out… With Jack listening, he would fight that will all his considerable stubbornness. Whatever it was had to be bad. But it was better than what he heard next.

Silence. Nothing. No more hitting, no more yells or defiance. No more questions. Before his heart rate could triple over that, an almost worse thing happened. The van disappeared over a hill.

"Mac!" He whispered. "Come on, kid, give me something. Cough or something, let me know you're still there. Please?"

Nothing. Muffled voices, far from the comm.

Tears blurred his vision and he floored the car. He had to find them and now. To either save his best friend. Or, like Iron Man said in the movie, he would damn sure to avenge him. He would certainly make the boy's last statement the truth.

His speed was almost his undoing, and it was only instinct that saved them both.

By the time it registered that it was something in the road, he slammed on the brakes and skidded sideways off the road. His blood boiled at the deer left in the road, until he saw the bloodstained blond hair.

His heart leapt so high it nearly choked him as he ran to him. The fabric of his jeans gave way followed by the skin of his knees as he dropped to them in the middle of the road, but he paid that no mind. Refusing to pay any attention to the bloody mess that was his friend's face and head until he learned the most important thing.

Jack's own heart started beating again when he found the weak, racing pulse in the bruised neck. Ok, he wasn't too late… now, back to the rest. "Oh, kid, what did they do to you? I'm so sorry." He picked the limp body up carefully, knowing if they didn't get out of the road, the Phoenix would lose two agents today.

Laying the front seat down flat, he put his unconscious friend in the seat beside him as turned him on his side to keep him from choking. A quick call to Matty alerted the nearest trauma center before the car even got out of the shallow ditch. He had a brief thought of calling for an ambulance, but there was no way he wanted to wait for them to get here. The rest of the team could finish tracking the van. He had more important things to do.

He just about swerved off the highway about ten minutes later when a hoarse voice whispered his name. Looking at the passenger seat (which would never come clean, despite the fact that most of the bleeding had stopped and seemed to be superficial, but Jack could care less. He would take it up with Matty when he had to), he saw his friend beginning to stir. Blue eyes shot open wide, blinking to clear the dried blood. "Jack!"

"Easy, son!" Jack said, debating whether to pull over and calm him down or not. He put a calming hand on a shoulder that looked uninjured, but was greeted with a really gross feel of something grinding under the skin and a yelp of both surprise and pain, as well as frightened, semi-conscious struggling. Jack shook his head. Of course the shoulder he touched would be dislocated. And of course the kid had a concussion that left him stuck inside that big brain of his! Why did he never do anything the easy way?!

The decision was made for him, as if Mac kept trying to fight while he was driving, he was going to wreck and kill them both. Flipping on the blue lights this car had for emergencies, he pulled hard onto the gravel on the side of the road. Able to focus on the hurt, scared kid beside him now, he scanned the battered body for somewhere that he could touch him, a way to ground him into reality without launching him right back into the torture he had just endured. As he finally settled on a forearm that was neither bloody nor bruised, and kept up a constant stream of babble, he wasn't even sure what he was saying to Mac. It didn't matter, he may have been going on about how bad the Cowboys had sucked the last several years, but his voice seemed to do the trick. Mac slowly began to settle down. With the hand that wasn't holding onto his friend, he pulled out his cell and dialed. Without waiting for a greeting, he said, "Matty, I'm gonna need some help here!"

He was holding onto the same spot on Mac's arm hours later when he started squirming around in his hospital bed at the trauma center. Knowing his injuries, he knew he could actually hold the hand attached to it, as the only fingers he had broken were on his right hand (good thing he was ambidextrous, Jack thought), but it had comforted him before, so he was afraid to change now. Most of the injuries were superficial, the dislocated right shoulder, three shattered finger which the doctor suggested might have been from a tire iron, making Jack's blood boil, a few cracked ribs, and colors that didn't even have names in the bruising over his chest and abdomen. The real problem was the head trauma. He had been in and out over the last ten hours, but never fully with it. Jack had spoken for several people over the last few hours, from Bozer to his absent father to Charlie from his old EOD team. The trauma unit only allowed one visitor per patient, so after reassuring themselves he was alive and safe, the rest of the team left Jack there with him, as he seemed to be the only one who could calm him. Some of the stuff he said had been hard, especially fending off horrible questions when he answered to 'Dad', but the first time he called him by his real name both broke his heart and terrified him, as Mac suddenly opened his bloodshot and swollen eyes and grabbed Jack's hand in a death grip. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "Jack, you see her, don't you? My mom, how is she…" He trailed off and his eyes fell closed again.

Full-blown panic hit him then, and he was no longer playing along. "Uh-uh, Mac, no way! You know who you are and that isn't right, and I hate to say it kid, but your mom has been gone a long time and you are not going to start talking to dead people, understand? You've scared me enough, bud, and I know what happens when people in hospitals start talking to dead people, so no! Don't do that to me, bro! Don't scare me like that!"

His eyes cracked open again, and he studied Jack's face like he was really and truly there with him and smiled. "Jack?"

The breath he sucked in from relief made him a little dizzy. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere til you can come too, ok?"

A slow nod, eyes slid closed again. Jack was there and he knew he was safe. "Knew you'd come for me."

The simple way he said it, not as a reassurance but as a fact, same as 'I know the sky is blue", put Jack's mind enough at ease to sit back down and get comfortable for the night, still close enough to touch but not disturbing him. His eyes had almost fallen closed when he heard the kid mumble "Sorry, I know you're not Rambo. But I couldn't come up with John McClane in the moment."

Jack laughed at that. Yup, the kid was going to be fine.


End file.
